


Reflection

by anoncitomikolino, LuthienLuinwe



Series: Welcome to My Life [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Green Arrow (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Bruce Wayne is Transphobic, Bruce Wayne is a Terrible Dad, Canon Major Character Death, Cheating, Child Death, DCU Big Bang, Drug Addiction, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Messy Breakup, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Stabbing, Trans Character, ftm dick grayson, relationship doubts, top surgery, transphobic characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncitomikolino/pseuds/anoncitomikolino, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: Dick Grayson is many things: acrobat, vigilante, friend, lover. This is the story of his life, including the good, the bad, and the ugly.





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This was my first time participating in the DCU Big Bang. I hope you enjoy the work! 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to my lovely artist anoncitomikolino / CherryMiko. Thank you so much Cherry for not murdering me when I scrapped my idea and rewrote it halfway through the challenge, and thank you for constantly brainstorming with me! Most importantly, thank you so much for the wonderful art you created!
> 
> Her wonderful art can be found here: http://cherrymiko-art.tumblr.com/post/179091551488/this-is-thedcubb-piece-i-did-for-the-fic-that
> 
> Thank you to my betas: Kon, CaramelMachete, and The_rck. I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without any of you!
> 
> Lastly, There are MANY potential triggers in this fic, including, but not limited to a trans character facing transphobia, messy breakups, and drug use / addiction. If you have any concerns over a potential trigger, please contact me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/luthienluinwe) and I will provide you with appropriate spoilers.

**“Must there be a secret me I’m forced to hide? Must I pretend I am someone else for all time? When will my reflection show who I am inside?”**

He leaned against the wall, watching Bruce's rich friends talk to each other, laughing like the jokes they heard were funny, flirting as if they liked each other. Sometimes he wondered if the movies actually hired actors at all for gala scenes. Everyone here seemed like a good enough actor, to him at least. He pulled up his dress. The last thing he needed was for something to slip if he wasn’t careful("Come now, Mistress Rosella, it is not that bad," Alfred had tried to tell him. If Bruce knew the truth - would he still look at him the same?) and tried not to think about how much his feet hurt in the shoes the sparkly heels Kory had assured him he'd look so perfect in.

He could see Roy out of the corner of his eye, glued to Ollie at the hip. "Have you met my son?" he could picture Ollie asking any and all potential investors. Dick wished he could be introduced that way too. Years of living with Ollie, but Roy still wasn't getting the hang of the socialite part of the job. Years of living with Bruce, but Dick struggled with the same damned thing. He glanced across the room, trying to make eye contact with the redhead. Roy caught his glance, and Dick smiled when he saw the dramatic eye roll and the mouthed 'kill me.

"There you are," Bruce smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, ushering him toward a group of people. God, he hated this part, hated it more than almost anything else on the face of the planet.

"Ah, the lovely Rosella," one of Bruce's business partners smiled, and Dick forced himself to smile back. He hated the name, even if his late parents had been the one to give it to him. It didn't fit. It didn't belong. It wasn't  _ him.  _ "Pleasure as always,” the man continued in a tone that suggested the meeting was anything  _ but  _ pleasant. Dick knew an obligation when he saw one.

"Good to see you too," he said and tried to focus on being pleasant, perhaps even becoming. No one wanted a grumpy brat at a charity fundraiser. Grumpy. He hated that word too. He'd like to put them in the wrong bodies, see how they felt about it. But he kept his mouth shut and kept the smile on his face and let the man's wife kiss him on both cheeks and gush about how his nails were a mess and they really should do something about that...

"There they are," Ollie said as he approached them, and Dick could have fainted with relief. Ollie never talked to Bruce without suggesting the kids go out and “Have some fun while they can, dammit.” Bruce would protest, say it was good for them to experience the galas until the end. Roy would smile and charm him into caving, and it would all be over. Dick could forget about it until the next event.

"Have fun," Bruce patted him on the back, and Dick blinked, trying to remember what they had been talking about. He muttered something, probably a thanks, and followed Roy out of the museum.

There was nothing more depressing than seeing the outside of a gala, women with mascara running down their faces, men already drunk getting behind the wheels of cars too expensive for Dick to wrap his head around. They’d be talking their way out of OWI charges by the morning.

At least the Gotham Baddie of the Week had been kind enough to stay away.

"I hate this long distance thing, you know," Roy took Dick's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "Had to fall in love with someone on the opposite side of the country, didn't I?" 

Dick rolled his eyes and tried to hide a laugh when he saw that stupid grin on Roy's face that had made him fall in love and kept him falling again and again and again. "But you love me," he grinned and stood on his tiptoes, pecking Roy on the lips before rocking back down.

"Damn right I do." Roy wrapped his arms around Dick's waist and pulled him closer, kissing him softly, tenderly for a moment before pulling back away. 

Would Roy still love him if he knew? 

"How did I get so lucky?" Roy continued, that stupid smile never leaving his face.

"If I remember," Dick began, breaking out of the embrace and taking Roy's hand again, leading him away from the others,"Clayface beat the shit out of me, and my mask fell off."

"And who would have guessed the incredible Robin was the heiress to the Wayne fortune?" Roy grinned again.

Dick wanted nothing more than to lean up and kiss him again and again...  But the word kept echoing in his head. It was just a word. A handful of letters. And it made him feel sicker than sick.  _ Heir,  _ he mentally corrected. He tried to ignore his stomach twisting into knots.  _ It’s just a stupid word,  _ he tried to tell himself, even though he knew it was so much more than that. Roy didn't know. He couldn't blame him. No one knew. Maybe no one ever would.

Dick forced a smile  when Roy laced their fingers together again, putting both of their hands in his suit pocket as they walked. "You were more icy toward Bruce than usual," Roy commented, and Dick just nodded.  _ I'm not wearing the dress.  _ "Everything okay?"

"As okay as it can be." Dick shrugged. He watched Roy open the passenger door of his car, one too expensive for a teenager who would wreck it before the year was over drive, and slid into the passenger seat. He watched Roy climb into the driver's seat and start the engine. "We're too similar I guess."  _ More than you'd think.  _ "Butt heads a lot."

"I get that." Roy nodded and backed out of the parking space. Dick nodded and leaned against the door, resting his head against the cool glass and watching the night skyline retreat mile by mile. "Hell, you've dealt with the fallout from fights with Ollie before."

"Things any better?" Dick asked, and Roy nodded, and he pretended not to see the set jaw and the clenched grip on the steering wheel. One of those nights then. "Thanks," he said after a silent moment passed between them. "For getting us out of there. Another minute standing in these damned heels and I would've died."

"They look good on you, though." Roy pulled into the manor's drive and threw the car into park. "But if your feet hurt, I can always carry you inside."

"I know how to walk." Dick rolled his eyes.

"Let me assert my masculinity," Roy responded, and Dick didn't protest when Roy scooped him out of the car, holding him like a bride. Dick didn’t need help. He was perfectly capable of getting out of a damned car on his own. He didn’t need to be treated like… like a  _ lady. _ But it wasn’t the time for arguments, not when Roy had rescued him from the gala from hell, and so he shot Roy a million dollar smile and rested his head on Roy’s chest as Roy carried him into the living room before dropping him unceremoniously onto the sectional.

"Bastard," he glared even though he knew his smile betrayed him.

"You love it."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

“Can I ask you something?” Dick glanced up at Roy after a long moment of comfortable silence passed between them. And God, he loved that about Roy. They could just be quiet, still, without either feeling the need to break the silence with meaningless banter or small talk. Who liked small talk anyway? 

“Yeah, anything,” Roy nodded, and Dick took in a shaky breath.

“Do you ever like… I dunno, not feel comfortable in your body?” 

“Ros, you’re seriously the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Dick sat up, and Roy looped an arm around his shoulders. “Like, maybe even the most beautiful person in the world.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” Dick sighed and rested his head on Roy’s shoulder. God, for such a smart guy, Roy could be such an idiot.

“Sometimes, I guess,” Roy shrugged, and Dick nodded and shut his eyes. “Talk to me, babe. What’s going on?”

“I just feel wrong,” Dick whispered softly, afraid that if he spoke too loudly it would make everything too real. If he kept quiet enough, nothing bad could ever happen to him. He’d seen the horror stories on the Internet of the awful things that happened to people like him. What if Roy turned out to be like those awful people from every event Bruce dragged him into?  “Like I’m wrong.”

“Ros, what are you trying to get at?” Roy shifted to a more comfortable position, and Dick opened his eyes to look at Roy’s, bright green filled with confusion and worry, and Dick hated that he had been the one to cause it. What was he trying to get at? God, this wasn’t when or how he planned this conversation happening. He’d never planned for this conversation to happen at all.

“I just…” Dick trailed off and took another shaky breath. He smiled slightly when Roy took his hands in his and squeezed them tightly, as if reassuring him that everything was okay, that he could never say anything wrong. “I’m not a girl, okay? And I get it if you’re not okay with that and don’t want anything to do with me anymore, just… Tell me, okay?”

Roy took in a shaky breath, and Dick shut his eyes again because God, this had to mean it was the end. Everything was going to fall apart around him all because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. “Hot damn,” Roy said, and Dick blinked and looked up at him. “I have a boyfriend.” Dick smiled brightly at him, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there. “Does Bruce know?”

“No.”

“You gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Dick sighed and curled further into Roy’s side, smiling when Roy wrapped an arm around him and played with his hair. What if Bruce hated him? Thought he was a freak? What if he took Robin away? God, what would the rest of his team say… And what would happen to his secret identity, to Bruce’s, if Robin and Rosella Grayson transitioned at the same time? It was too much of a coincidence…

“So what should I call you?” Roy asked, and Dick snapped out of his own head and back into the present, trying to focus on him, on the moment and the issue at hand.  _ Stay alert,  _ Bruce had always told him.  _ Never know what could hurt you or when. _

“Dick,” he answered, and Roy snort-laughed, and Dick shot him a death glare that would have made Bruce proud. “It’s short for Richard, dumbass.”

“Of all the names…” Roy grinned, and Dick rolled his eyes. “It’s cute. I like it. Suits you.”

“I love you,” Dick whispered and moved so his head was in Roy’s lap, knees curled up into a fetal position. Safe. Calm. Nothing could hurt him as long as Roy was around. Roy wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

“I love you too.”

\----------------------

He sat on the sectional with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Three AM on a school night with no patrol. Alfred would kill him if he saw. He shut his eyes and curled up, head against the side of the armrest and scrolled through his phone, anything mind-numbing to keep him away from his own thoughts. His hips were too wide. His arms were too slender. It was all so wrong. He felt wrong…

“You should be in bed,” a deep voice said from the doorway, and Dick blinked and sat up and glanced over, groaning when he saw Bruce already dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt that had to have been older than Dick was. How long had he been sitting there for Bruce to be back already?

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged.  _ What can you do?  _

“Did Roy do something?” Bruce asked, and Dick immediately narrowed his eyes. Because of course that was the first question. Roy was the greatest thing that had happened to him, and Bruce had hated him from day one, and deep down, Dick knew that Bruce was always going to hate him, no matter how good Roy was to him, how accepting he’d been…

“No,” Dick shook his head. “And you can stop asking that, okay? We’ve been dating six months now, and we’ve been friends longer. I know you don’t like him, but I do, and I really don’t appreciate you constantly putting him down.” He hated having to stand up to Bruce. It never ended well. And God, he hoped it wouldn’t turn into one of their infamous screaming matches. 

Sometimes he worried their fights might kill Alfred one day. He always seemed to get thrown into the middle. Hopefully he was sound asleep, blissfully unaware of what was going on just a wing away from him.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Great. So he wasn’t going to just drop it and move on, and Dick was going to have to come up with another lie just like he always did.

“I just have a lot going on, okay?” Not a total lie. But how could he even start to tell Bruce?  _ Oh yeah, by the way, I’m not your fucking daughter. So if you could just stop referring to me like that I’d appreciate it. Great. Thanks.  _ There were better ways to handle it. Better ways when they weren’t exhausted and it wasn’t three in the damned morning and he didn’t have to be at school in less than five hours.

“God,” Bruce breathed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “For the love of God, please tell me you aren’t pregnant.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he heard his voice rise in pitch and hated himself for it. He was shaking, and he knew it, and he didn’t care. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Watch your tone,” Bruce warned, and Dick shot him a death glare. “Now do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Dick shook his head and bit his lower lip even though he knew Bruce wouldn’t let him get away with that. No one read tells like the Bat. He could feel tears pricking behind his eyes, and God, could they not just hold off until he was back in his room? No one took an angry crier seriously, and Bruce would no doubt think less of him for it.

“Rosella…”

“I’m not a girl, okay?” he snapped and felt his blood run cold because those weren’t the right words for how this was supposed to go. It wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. And he watched Bruce’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and his jaw set, and God, he could see Alfred in the doorway, and he just wanted to run up to his room and lock the door and never come back out.

Dick watched Bruce take a deep, even breath, more like a meditative reaction to keep from lashing out, saying something he would end up regretting. “I’m sure you’re just confused. We’ll get you some help…”

And Dick felt his blood boil again and rise to his cheeks, and he knew the tears were falling, and he didn’t care. “I’m not confused, Bruce,” he shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Master Bruce…” Alfred cut in and tried to put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, but Dick just jerked away because the last thing he needed was Alfred coming to his rescue. He could hold his own. He didn’t need any help, even if it was nice to know that someone was on his side. Still, it would have been nice if that person could be Bruce. At least every once in awhile.

“You’re a girl, Rosella,” Bruce said firmly, and God, Dick just wanted to scream at him. What the hell did Bruce know about any of this? Dick was the one living it, and he barely understood any of it himself. But the one thing he was absolutely sure of was that he was in the wrong body, and God, not a moment passed when he didn’t want out of it. 

“I’m not.” Dick’s voice broke, and he had rarely felt so vulnerable, so  _ alone _ . “Roy’s fine with it,” he added, almost as an afterthought, and tried to ignore the flash of pure disgust that showed in Bruce’s eyes. “And don’t you  _ dare  _ say anything about him because he’s been more supportive than you’ll ever be.” He heard it before he felt it. A sharp slap that left his cheek stinging. He instinctively raised a hand to it, more stunned than anything else. “Go to hell, Bruce,” he spat. “I’m done.”

“Mistre… er, Master Rosella,” Alfred began. “Maybe we can…” 

There was more, but Dick didn’t stick around long enough to hear it. He gritted his teeth and all but ran out of the living room and up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, hoping to God he’d never have to deal with any of this ever again.

He threw himself onto his bed and curled up on his side, hugging a pillow to his heaving chest. What had he expected to happen? It was bad timing, he tried to tell himself. Bruce wasn’t really like that. He wasn’t like the horrible people he read about on blogs made by people like him. Just bad timing. Just bad timing…

A knock at his door jarred him from his thoughts, and he started to mutter a ‘go away,’ when the door creaked slowly open, Alfred standing behind it. Dick glanced over at him and moved so he was sitting up, folding his legs under him. 

“Master Bruce is an idiot who does not know what he is talking about.”

And when Alfred moved so he was seated beside him, Dick wasted no time latching onto the butler and letting the tears fall again. “I hate him,” he said, but even as the words came out he knew they weren’t true. Even if he wanted to hate him. God, he wanted to hate him.

“I will take the liberty of informing your school that you are ill in the morning,” Alfred said, and Dick glared at him because of course Alfred’s caring persona was fake, just like Bruce’s must have always been. “Not that you are,” he added quickly upon seeing Dick’s expression, and Dick felt himself breathe again. “I think you could use a break.”

“Bruce won’t let me,” he muttered and hid his face in Alfred’s shoulder.

“Master Bruce does not have to know, does he?”

And Dick felt himself smile, a genuine smile, for what felt like the first time in months, hell, in years.

What would he ever do without Alfred?

“If you do not mind me asking,” Alfred continued. “Have you chosen a name? I wish to address you in the manner you wish to be addressed in.”

“Dick.” He stated, a note of finality in his tone as he glanced up at Alfred, who had a smile spread across his own face.

“Very well,” Alfred nodded and held Dick a moment longer before standing up. “Do try and get some sleep, Master Dick,” he suggested as he crossed the room, flicked the light off, and shut the door behind him.

Dick woke in the morning with a stuffy nose and a pounding headache, and it took him longer than it should have to admit it was from crying the night before. God, he had been so stupid… And Bruce was supposed to love and support him no matter what… and God, he was glad Alfred was letting him skip school that day.

He carefully stretched and moved over to his drawers, opening the one he hated the most. At least he could wear a sports bra around the house, not the stupid strapless one he’d had to wear at the gala… He shut his eyes and tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach as he pulled it on, following it quickly with a baggy t-shirt and an old pair of sweats. 

He crossed  his arms over his chest as he headed to the ensuite and stared at his reflection. Same tanned skin. Same bright blue eyes. Same hair that he’d only managed to keep chin-length because short hair was better for crime fighting. The same hair that he just wanted to hack off. Same hips that were too wide. Same breasts that he wanted gone. He shut his eyes tightly and brushed his teeth without looking in the mirror again. Why bother looking at what he didn’t want to see?

“Ah, Master Dick,” Alfred greeted when Dick headed down the stairs. Dick forced a smile and sat down at the table and pushed his spoon around the bowl of cereal in front of him. It was his favorite, and he should have been grateful, but his stomach was tying up in knots and he felt like he was going to be sick and God, he was glad Bruce had gone to work early. “How did you sleep?’ Alfred asked, and Dick had never been more grateful for the choice in question. Not the typical ‘I trust you slept well.’ Dick shook his head and forced a mouthful of the food down, not bothering to taste it. “I figured the two of us could do something today,” he said, and Dick tilted his head in curiosity.

When was the last time they’d done something together?

“I have a friend,” Alfred continued. “Who I believe you may be interested in having a look at that hair of yours. He’s been in the barber trade for, oh, at least thirty years…”

“A barber?” Dick perked up at the thought of that. Bruce would flip if he suddenly came home with a new haircut. But it would be worth it to have a better haircut. One that actually suited him.

At least someone had his back.

\------------

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Bruce shouted, and God, Dick wanted nothing more than to punch him in the jaw. He’d made a mistake, a stupid one at that, but still. He was a  _ kid _ . He was a stupid kid who had let Bruce Wayne drag him into the mess of a vigilante’s life, and he’d followed him like Bruce was the fucking Pied Piper.

“You think I don’t know that?” Dick snapped. He couldn’t help but think that maybe things would have been better if he’d had the decency to let the thug finish the job. It was a bullet through the shoulder, nothing major. He’d gotten hurt worse on the job before.  _ But none of those times involved a gun.  _ “Why the fuck do you care anyway? It’d solve a hell of a lot of your stupid problems if the guy had had better aim.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, and Dick rolled his eyes. He didn’t need the fake sympathy. He didn’t need Bruce to pretend like he  _ cared.  _ He’d made it perfectly clear he’d be more than pleased if Dick dropped off the face of the planet weeks earlier. 

“No more Robin.”

Dick’s heart sank.

Robin was his life. His everything. Bruce couldn’t take away the only thing he had that made life worth living. “Bruce, please no…” he hated himself when he heard his voice crack. Bruce couldn’t take it away. I _ t’s because you came out to him,  _ a voice in the back of his head told him, even though he knew, or at least he  _ hoped,  _ it wasn’t because of that.

“I never should have let you do it in the first place,” Bruce shook his head, and Dick wanted to scream, to fight with him because how  _ dare  _ he take this away, too?

“Bruce…”

“Enough, Ros… Dick,” Dick shut his eyes tightly. Months later and Bruce still couldn’t get the damn name right. It wasn’t even that hard. One little syllable. He was able to stick to Robin in the field. Why was this any different?  _ Why not add insult to injury?  _ “You’re done.”

“Go to hell!”  Dick snapped and ran out of the room before the tears stinging his eyes could fall free.

\------------

He stared at himself in the mirror, all but jumping up and down with excitement.  _ It’ll take awhile to kick in,  _ his doctor had told him. Bruce had been against it, of course he had, but Alfred had talked to Bruce, and eventually he’d come around, and now several weeks later, Dick was glancing in the mirror and saw stubble on his chin.

It was working. God, it was finally working.

He’d noticed other small changes. More muscle build, his voice lowering slightly. But this was new. This was new and exciting, and he felt his stomach doing flips. 

He had to stay clean-shaven for school, but that wasn’t the point. 

_ Are you sure you want to do this?  _ Bruce had asked him before Dick had started on the hormones.

_ I’m sure. _

_ What will the kids in your class think? _

_ Most of them know already and don’t care, unlike you. _

Sure he’d had a handful of bullies. He’d expected it. But he learned not to let them under his skin. Everyone had loved him before. Everyone would keep loving him after. 

Popularity had never been a problem for Dick Grayson. He hoped it never would be.

Because he needed people. He needed people like he needed air, and it would absolutely kill him if his friends turned their backs on him the way Bruce had (even if they were talking again, he knew it was just to reach a tentative peace with Alfred). 

No. He didn’t want to think about school or Bruce or whatever the hell he was going to be facing in the future. He wanted to focus on this moment.

And in that moment, he couldn’t have been happier.

\-------------

“Bad day?” Roy guessed when Dick stormed into Roy’s room at the Tower, slamming the door shut behind him. Bad day. Heh. Bad day didn’t even  _ begin  _ to describe it. He’d gone ‘home’ to visit Alfred more than anything else, and that  _ brat  _ had been sitting there, and  _ God  _ Dick had never been more mad in his life.

_ Who the hell are you? _

_ Uh… Jason? _

_ Why the fuck are you dressed like that? _

_ Dick, be nice. _

_ Ohmygodyou’rethefirstrobinIcan’tbelieveI’mactuallymeetingyou. _

The little brat. The absolute little brat. Bruce had had the  _ audacity  _ to fire him. And then he’d gone and picked some little kid off the street and thrown him into Dick’s uniform and given him the name Dick’s own mother had given him. “I hate him,” he said as he paced the bedroom for what felt like the hundredth time. Roy was sat on his bed, leg pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around him. “How  _ dare  _ he?” 

“It was a dick move,” Roy agreed, and Dick shook his head furiously and kept pacing. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet you know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Roy,” Dick glared and watched as Roy immediately shut his mouth, not even bothering to try and argue with him.

He watched Roy stretch out before standing up, approaching Dick and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Babe, chill,” he kissed his cheek, and Dick shut his eyes and rested his head against Roy’s chest, breathing in cheap aftershave and shitty cologne.  _ I can’t buy the good stuff, Dick. Won’t let Ollie have the satisfaction of me being a proper socialite.  _ “It’s not the end of the world.”

“I hate him,” Dick’s voice broke, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he was talking about Bruce or Jason. No. It wasn’t Jason’s fault he got picked up by Bruce. “He should have asked me.”

“You’re right,” Roy kissed the top of his head, almost like he used to do after bad fights., when Dick would see him at the Tower after a particularly nasty argument with Bruce, or after Roy had a particularly nasty fight with Ollie. Alike attracts alike, he figured. “He should have.”

“He could have at least told me.”

“When has he ever done the right thing?” Roy asked, and Dick shut his eyes tightly and clung to him. “I’m not saying it makes it okay,” he added.  _ Nice save,  _ Dick thought, but kept his mouth shut. The absolute last thing he needed was to have a fight with Roy. He didn’t think his heart could take it. “But it’s like what you tell me every time I get into it with Ollie. I can’t change him. And you can’t change Bruce. And that doesn’t make it okay, okay? But it’s how it is.”

“I hate this.” Dick shook his head. “I’m so mad I’m sick to my stomach, Roy.”

“You can’t control other people’s decisions,” Roy sighed and pulled Dick onto the bed with him. Dick nodded and lay down beside Roy, curling up into his side and playing with the fabric of his shirt. 

“I hate this,” Dick repeated in a whisper, afraid that things would become too real if he dared to say it any louder. Words were safe with Roy. He’d never use them against him. 

“I mean, I’d be pretty pissed if Ollie replaced me.” Roy played with his hair, and Dick leaned into his touch like he needed it. He did need it. Sometimes he felt like he needed Roy more than he needed anything else on the face of the planet. “And I left willingly.” He paused a moment, and Dick propped himself up on one elbow to look into those pretty green eyes, so full of fight and fire and concern for  _ him _ . “Just remember who you’re mad at, okay? The kid didn’t ask for any of this. Hell, his life would have probably been better without any of it.”

“I know,” Dick sighed and collapsed back into Roy’s arms with a dramatic sigh that would have made the Academy proud. “Thanks,” he whispered, “for everything.”

“So does that mean I’m getting laid tonight?” Roy asked, a smirk on his face, and Dick laughed and playfully slugged him in the arm.

“I love you,” he smiled, the smile broadening when Roy returned it.

“I love you more.”

“You sure about that?” Dick cocked an eyebrow and moved so he was on top of Roy, straddling his hips. Roy grinned and held his hands on Dick’s hips, drawing him closer and pulling him in for a kiss, grinning against Roy’s lips. He grinned up at the redhead when Roy flipped their positions.

“Oh I’m pretty damn sure,” Roy commented and kissed along Dick’s jawline. Dick moaned and tilted his head up to give him better access. “I love you,” Roy slid his hands under Dick’s shirt, and Dick grabbed him by the wrists, breathing a sigh of relief when Roy immediately pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

  
“Just…” Dick trailed off, unsure of how to word it. He’d started hormones months ago, but was still wearing a binder, and… “Not there, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Roy nodded, and God, Dick had never been more grateful to have someone so understanding on his side. He propped himself up on his elbows and kissed Roy again, slowly, passionately. 

What would Dick do without him?

\-------------------------------

He groaned and rolled over, still half-asleep when Alfred came in and shook his shoulder. He’d stayed at the Manor only because Alfred had asked him to. Bruce had conveniently been working late, and hadn't come back from patrol until long after Dick was asleep, not that he had complained about it. The less time he spent around Bruce, the better. Bruce hadn't even been able to look at him since Dick had told him about the surgery. “Time to wake up, Master Dick,” Alfred said softly, and Dick groaned and forced his eyes open.

He rolled over and glanced at the clock, 4 AM. God, why did hospitals have to schedule surgeries so damn early in the morning. “I’m up,” he groaned again, but made no move to actually get out of bed. It was nice, sleeping on an expensive mattress on sheets that probably cost more than he made in a week.

But not nice enough to make him want to come back home.

The door clicked shut, and Dick stretched and swung his legs out over the side of the bed. He headed to the en-suite and glanced in the  mirror, trying to ignore the dark circles under his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile when he saw a slight shadow along his jawline. 

His stomach growled, and he tried to ignore it.  _ No food or drink after midnight,  _ the surgeon had told him.  _ Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,  _ Dick had replied jokingly. It wasn’t his first go-around with major surgery.Only a few short hours and he’d match the way he felt inside…

His heart leapt in his chest at the thought of that.

He glanced down to look at them, the  _ things  _ that had given him so much damn trouble and heartache.

What would Roy think?

No, he shook his head. Roy was all for it. He’d said so himself. But had he said it because he felt that way, or had he said it because he thought that was what Dick wanted to hear?

No, couldn’t think like that. 

Today was supposed to be a happy day, maybe one of the happiest in his life.

Nothing bad was going to touch him.

He headed back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom before going through his duffel bag. He pulled on a loose pair of sweats and instinctively reached for his binder, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach when he remembered he left it at home.  _ Soon you won’t even need it,  _ he reminded himself as he threw a baggy t-shirt over his head.

He padded downstairs and clutched his stomach, wishing it would just shut up. There would be plenty of time to eat later, once  _ they  _ were gone. Glad, he was never so grateful for a morning to come. They’d caused him trouble since they’d come in when he was twelve, and he was glad that he’d never have to deal with them again.

Alfred opened the door for him, and Dick slid into the passenger seat of the car. He’d never been one for riding in the back. He leaned his head against the cool glass window and slept the rest of the way to the hospital.

Roy was there to greet them, a stupid grin on his face and a stupidly cute teddy bear dressed as a doctor hanging from his hand. “Hey,” he greeted Dick with a smile and hugged him tightly. “You nervous?”

“I’m okay,” Dick yawned and raised an eyebrow when Roy handed the bear to him. “Seriously?”

“Everyone needs a surgery bear, Dickiebird,” Roy said in a sing-song voice, and Dick couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face.

“Well in that case, I appreciate it,” Dick smiled and pecked Roy on the cheek. What would he do without him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He took Roy’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and followed him into the hospital. “I still can’t believe you flew out for me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Roy kissed the top of his head, and Dick smiled brightly. He checked in at the front desk and filled out his paperwork, struggling to stay awake as he did so.

It seemed an eternity before he was called back, making a noise of protest when the nurse informed him Roy had to stay in the waiting area. “I’m going to miss them, you know,” Roy said. His tone was joking, but Dick still felt his heart drop in his chest. Seriously? Of all the things Roy could have said? He wanted to throttle him.

“Yeah, well I won’t,” Dick responded, his voice icier than he intended it to be. 

He took a shaky breath and followed the nurse back.

When they handed him the mirror post-op, he wanted to cry. It was so, so much better than he ever could have imagined. They were gone. They were finally gone. And finally he could start to feel normal, maybe for the first time in his life.

“Looks good,” Roy greeted, and Dick blinked and looked over at the doorway, where the redhead stood, bag of shitty fast food in hand. Dick could have kissed Roy for bringing him something to eat something other than whatever the hell the hospital had been trying to force feed him. “I’m really sorry,” Roy added as he sat beside Dick, handing him the brown paper bag. “About what I said earlier. It was stupid.”

“Yeah, it really was,” Dick muttered and picked at his food. The pain meds were making him sick to his stomach, and even though it was growling, he found he wasn’t that hungry anymore. 

“Forgive me?”

“Always.”

And it killed him, knowing that he’d go to the end of the Goddamned world for Roy Harper. And it killed him knowing Roy would never do the same.

\-------------------------

It was the little things that he pretended not to see. Roy ditching the team to go off and do whatever the hell it was he was doing (and damned if Dick didn’t have a perfectly good idea of what those other activities were). Glazed over eyes that weren’t focused even when Dick was talking to him. Not even focused when they were together.  Roy getting sick in the middle of the night and swearing it off as food poisoning for the fourth time in a week.

Sometimes it was easy to ignore the small things, the ones that Dick pretended didn’t get under his skin even though they did to the point that he spent nights completely sleepless, worried about his boyfriend and the path he was going down.

God, when had everything started to change?

When the hormones kicked in a year ago? 

When he had major surgery three months ago?

Did he cause this?

Surely he must have caused it... right? Because this wasn't Roy. This wasn't the sweet, caring Roy that he'd fallen in love with time after time. And it was insane. He must have been insane. Because even between all the lies and accusations, he still loved Roy, and part of him wondered if he always would.

Wasn't that how love was supposed to work? Until death do us part and all that bullshit?

Dick shut his eyes and took a shaky breath when he heard the door to their apartment click shut. It was way too early for Roy to be home, and that definitely couldn't have meant anything good. God, Dick hoped he hadn't gotten fired. He didn't want to rely on Bruce's and Ollie's money any more than they had to.

It was probably all going to drugs and booze anyway.

He took a shaky breath and left the bedroom, hands shaking as he turned the doorknob. "Hey," he forced a smile, feeling sick to his stomach when he saw Roy slumped against the counter for support, already strung out on God only knew what. He glanced over at the clock on the stove. It wasn't even noon yet.

"Hey," Roy groaned, and Dick was more than a bit surprised that he was coherent enough to understand what Dick had said, let alone reply. Not like it mattered. Roy had already pulled his phone out and was texting God-only-knew who.

Was it someone else?

The thought alone made Dick sick to his stomach.

"You're home early," Dick crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Everything okay?"

"Just didn't feel good," Roy shrugged, and Dick shut his eyes. Another lie. And honestly, what did he expect? Because that was all Roy had done for months. Lie and say everything was okay. Lie and say he was just sick that day. Lie that he had no clue where the money was going. Lies, lies, and more lies.

And Dick was sick and tired of it. All of it.

"You're high as fuck, you know that?" Dick raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Roy, who had already broken into a sweat, his pupils so constricted they were barely there. "This shit's going to kill you, Roy."

"Like I give a fuck," Roy responded and set his phone down the counter. When had the aliens come to abduct Roy Harper and replace him with this stranger?

_ Your fault,  _ the voice in the back of his head told him, just like it always did.  _ All your fault. Always your fault. _

“You have a problem,” Dick said, trying to keep his tone cool and even. Getting upset wouldn’t do any good. It would just anger the both of them, and nothing good could come out of two vigilantes with a temper directed at each other. “You need help or something.”

“I don’t have a fucking problem, Dick,” Roy crossed his arms, and Dick instinctively took a step back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and if he didn’t know any better he’d say he was about to get an adrenaline rush. But why? He’d never been scared of Roy before.

But this person, this stranger in front of him, he wasn’t the Roy Dick knew. And he must have done something to cause it because God, Roy had been  _ fine  _ before… No. No, he wasn’t going to think about that. This was on Roy… Wasn’t it? Roy was the one on the drugs. Roy was the one denying everything and lying about everything again and again and again… “Really?” he questioned. “You don’t have a problem? Because it’s eleven thirty in the Goddamn morning and you’re already high and smell like a bar.”

“Just shut the fuck up, Dick,” Roy responded, and Dick felt his cheeks burning with anger, and God, he was  _ not  _ going to angry cry in this situation. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?”

Dick shut his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath before opening them again. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said, voice deadly calm. Losing his temper wasn’t going to win this fight for him. They’d just end up in a screaming match and no one would really win. He knew that. “And I know this too. You quit, or we’re done.”

“Okay,” Roy sighed, and Dick watched as he ran a hand through his bright red hair, already matted with sweat, and tried to ignore Roy scratching at his arms. He must’ve started even earlier if he was already starting to withdraw. Did he even show up at work at all? Dick doubted it. “Okay. You’re right. I’m done.” Dick nodded and let out a breath he’d been holding for God only knew how long.

And he couldn't help but think that Roy was lying through his teeth.

\--------

The new Robin was a chatty little brat with poor impulse control and a nasty temper, and God, Dick hated that Bruce had sent them out on patrol together.  _ Let him see Bludhaven. It’ll be good for him.  _ Bullshit. Bludhaven was his city, his turf. Bruce had no right to impose any kind of authority there, and had  _ zero  _ authority to tell Dick what to do anymore.

But even after everything that had happened, all the fights and accusations and nasty name-calling, Dick still couldn’t say no to Bruce Wayne, and sure as hell couldn’t say no to Batman. Who could? 

“Didya see?” the kid asked, bouncing up and down with excitement, and  _ God  _ had Dick been that annoying as a sidekick? For Christ’s sake, Nightwing had a reputation to uphold.  _ He  _ was the chatty one in the partnership. “He was like  _ wham  _ and you were like  _ pow  _ and…”

“Robin, just shut up,” Dick monotoned and sat on the edge of the rooftop, staring out at the Bludhaven streets. It was supposed to be his. Just his. And Bruce had to go and step on that too.

He sighed when he saw the kid’s face fall and watched as he moved to sit next to Dick. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Dick said, and it was mostly true. He didn’t hate Jason, not really. He hated that Jason was dressed in  _ his  _ uniform and that Jason was using  _ his  _ name and that Bruce had adopted  _ him  _ and not Dick, and he’d known Dick for years and had only known Jason for months…  _ Just remember who you’re mad at,  _ he could still hear Roy’s voice echoing in his head.  _ The kid didn’t ask for this. _

“Then why are you so mean to me?” Jason questioned, and Dick shook his head. They weren’t having that conversation. Not that night. Maybe not any night. Because how the hell was he supposed to tell Jason that his biggest hero was flawed in pretty major ways? He couldn’t break the kid’s spirit, not this early on. Maybe Jason would’ve been all the better for it if Dick did go ahead and break that stupid spirit of his. “Everything I do is wrong with you.”

Dick ignored him and studied the streets below. A woman wearing too much makeup and a faux fur coat got into a car too expensive for Dick to comprehend. A couple was fighting on a street corner. A man was strung out on a streetside bench, and his stomach twisted because God, what if that was Roy sitting there? 

_ He quit,  _ the voice in his head reminded him.

_ You know he didn’t. _

“Can I ask you something?” Jason asked out of the blue, and Dick turned to face him. What could the kid possibly want to know that he couldn’t get out of Bruce? He nodded slightly, knowing things would be easier if he just went along with whatever the kid wanted to ask him. Who needed complications anyway? “Everyone at school is like… getting crushes? On girls, I mean? And…”

“And you’re not?” Dick guessed and watched as Jason turned bright red and nodded. “Some people don’t.” Dick shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you’re broken or anything.”

“But what if I think I have a crush on a guy in my class?” Jason asked carefully, and Dick smiled and shook his head. God, though, he was glad Jason was asking him instead of Bruce. 

“Then there’s nothing wrong with that either,” Dick patted him on the back and stared out at the skyline. 

“You aren’t gonna make fun of me or anything?” Jason pressed, and Dick cocked an eyebrow and turned to face him. Jason’s face was bright red, probably in embarrassment, and Dick had to admit he looked kind of adorable like that.

“Jason, you’ve seen me shirtless.” He stifled a laugh when Jason’s face turned even redder. 

“I dunno,” Jason responded. “I thought you just had like… heart surgery or something?”

Dick laughed and shook his head, patting Jason on the back. “Never change, Little Wing. Never change.” They sat in silence for a moment. Dick knew Jason was expecting something, an ‘I don’t hate you,’ or a ‘You aren’t so bad after all, kid,’ but he wasn’t going to say it, not yet. Not when the sting of Bruce replacing him was still so fresh and ran so deep, and… Right. Bruce. “Hey Little Wing?” he asked and watched Jason turn and tilt his head to the side. “Maybe don’t tell Bruce just yet.”

“Why not?” Jason asked, and Dick cursed himself because he should have known that was going to be the most logical next question, and he definitely did  _ not  _ want to relive that night. Not then. Not ever. And certainly not with that brat. 

“He just won’t take it well,” Dick sighed and hugged a knee to his chest, staring back out at the pathetic excuse for the Bludhaven skyline.  _ “You’re a girl, Rosella,”  _ he could still hear Bruce’s voice ringing in his head, could still feel the sting of the slap across his face.  _ “I’m not, okay? I’m not.”  _

“Oh,” Jason sighed, and Dick saw his face fall from the corner of his eye.

“But there’s nothing wrong with it, okay?” Dick glanced over at Jason and watched as Jason perked up, at least a little bit. “I got your back on this.”

“Thanks,” Jason forced a smile, and for a moment, Dick thought that maybe the little brat wasn’t so much of a pest after all.

\--------------

Something was wrong, and Dick knew it before he could even shut the door to the apartment behind him. Roy was sitting on the couch, sober for once, or at least he looked like it, TV turned off, hands crossed in his lap. Dick watched as Roy turned to look at him, as if he’d been expected. Dick threw his keys onto the counter by the door and shrugged his jacket off, hanging it up on the hook.

“Hey,” Roy greeted, voice dull and flat, not the happy, carefree tone Dick had always associated him with.

“Hey,” Dick responded with a frown. “Everything okay?”

Roy shook his head and turned back so he was facing the wall. Dick felt his heart sink in his chest. Did something happen? Did someone die? He wished Roy would just spit out whatever the hell it was he wanted to say. “I cheated on you.”

Dick felt his heart drop in his chest. “With Jade?” he asked, her name coming out of his mouth like it was something vile, something dirty.  _ You don’t need to worry about her.  _ How many times had Roy told him that? How many nights had Dick lay in bed, staring at the ceiling wondering what was keeping Roy so late?  _ Nothing’s going on. _

Dick didn’t need to see Roy nod to know it was true. The silence that filled the void said everything they were too afraid to. “Why?” Dick demanded, his voice breaking. Why was he not good enough? Why did Roy have to go chasing after someone else?

Why did that someone else have to be a woman?

“I don’t know,” Roy ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at Dick. 

“Then you’d better start figuring it out.” Dick crossed his arms and glared at Roy. How could Roy do that to him? How could Roy hurt him like that? He’d been lied to. He’d been cheated on… His heart was breaking into thousands of irreparable pieces, and he couldn’t stop it, and he didn’t know what to do.

“She’s pregnant, Dick.”

And wasn’t that just so fucking great? 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dick’s voice broke. How could Roy do that to him? Roy had promised to stay with him no matter what, had promised never to hurt him. And yet here they were.

“I’m so, so sorry Dickiebird…”

“You don’t get to call me that right now,” Dick spat. 

“It was a mistake,” Roy said, and Dick shook his head because he didn’t want to hear Roy’s pathetic excuses. So what if it was a mistake? He still did it. And it still hurt.

And it hurt knowing everything was falling to pieces around them and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Dick headed for the door, but Roy grabbed him by the wrist, and Dick spun around faster than he thought was possible. “What the fuck do you want, Roy?” he demanded, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

Because this time the hurt was different. It was deeper. And Dick wasn’t sure they could work through it.

“It was a mistake,” Roy said, and Dick looked into his boyfriend’s eyes, searching for something,  _ anything  _ to hold on to. He wanted to believe Roy. Honest to God he did.

But sometimes holding on wasn’t worth it.

Sometimes it was easier to come crashing down.

Because they’d made it through everything so far… Hadn't they?

But they’d made it through so much together already… and Roy was always there, and Roy had said he’d love Dick no matter what…

“We can work this out,” Roy said desperately, but instead of wanting to comfort him, Dick just wanted to run and hide, never to be seen or heard from again.

“Okay,” he said, despite everything in his mind telling him to leave.

Roy kept his promises.

Didn’t he?

\--------------------------------

Okay, so maybe he’d judged the brat too soon. Dick sat in the parking lot of the school, waiting for Jason to head out and climb into the passenger’s seat and ramble on about whatever the hell it was they were studying in class that day. Bruce was working late, and Alfred had insisted, and, well… Dick could never really say no to the man.

“Hey,” Jason frowned as he got into the car. “Where’s Alfred?” Of course that was the first question out of the brat’s mouth.  _ Good to see you too.  _ He tightened his grip on the wheel.

“Had the day off,” Dick answered and threw the car into reverse before Jason was buckled in. He took a shaky breath and listened to Roy’s words echoing in his head.  _ Just remember who you’re mad at.  _ “How was school?”

“Like you care,” Jason scoffed.

“I do care,” Dick argued back. Like it or not, the brat was his responsibility on missions. If anything bad happened to Jason on Dick’s watch, Bruce would never let him hear the end of it. And another falling out with Bruce was the absolute last thing that Dick wanted to happen. Not to mention Jason was a kid. He’d barely turned fifteen. And Dick couldn’t help but think he’d started a dangerous precedent when it came to Robin. They were all too young to be doing the things they did.

“Well it sure as hell seems like you do,” Jason responded and slumped back in his seat. Dick sighed backed the car out of the parking space before hitting the road. “What did I ever do to you anyway?”

_ You existed,  _ Dick wanted to say, but that wasn’t fair.  _ Remember who you’re mad at.  _ Jason hadn't asked to become Robin. Bruce had been the one to decide that. “Nothing,” he answered instead, hoping it was a safe choice. “So how was school?” he tried again.

“It was shitty,” Jason answered and threw his backpack from his feet to the back seat. Dick sighed again and tried to focus on the road. Jason had always loved school. Something must have happened, but he knew he wasn’t in a position to ask. “I hate kids my age, you know.”

“I get that,” Dick nodded. He’d never had that problem. Everyone had loved him, even when they found out he was transitioning, even during and after the process. He’d been scared, hell, he’d been terrified, that they’d reject him like Bruce had. That they’d hate him like Bruce had. And God, he had gotten so, so lucky. He’d read the horror stories online and was so, so glad he didn’t have to be one of them. 

He waited for Jason to elaborate, but the kid never did. Oh well. Dick figured he had plenty of time to try and build a connection with Jason later.

They’d made progress…

Hadn't they?

\------------

_ Jason Peter Todd, age 15, died on Saturday, December 22 while on an overseas trip with adoptive father, Bruce Wayne. He is preceded in death by parents Catherine and Willis Todd. He is succeeded in life by adoptive father Bruce Wayne and adoptive brother Richard Grayson. A closed-casket visitation will take place at Newcomer Funeral Home from 10 AM until 7 PM on Thursday, December 27. The funeral will take place on Friday, December 28, at 9 AM at the Gotham Cathedral with graveside service to follow. In lieu of flowers, expressions of sympathy may be made to the Hudson County Department of Child Services. _

“Dick?” a voice asked, but Dick didn’t register what was being said. Jason was dead. That couldn’t be right. He hadn’t been off planet that long… Just a few weeks ago they’d actually been bonding, maybe even becoming friends, even if it was still a bit of a stretch. Just a few weeks ago, Jason had told him a stupid joke, and Dick had laughed even though it really wasn’t that funny, and Alfred had smiled and commented about how glad he was that the two were finally getting along.

“Daddy, Dickie’s sad,” a small, innocent voice said.

“Go play, Lian,” Roy responded. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

His heart sunk in his chest as he kept reading. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. Because surely to God, Bruce would have told him about something like this…  _ But when has Bruce ever made it a point to tell you anything important?  _ God, just a month ago, Jason had shown up at Dick’s Bludhaven apartment after a fight with Bruce. And Dick had just invited him in like it was no big deal.  _ I hate him. Why is he so hard on me?  _ Jason had asked.  _ Well, you  _ did  _ shatter the thug’s collarbone,  _ Dick had responded.  _ Yeah, like he’s never done that before. _

"Dick, babe, talk to me," the familiar voice said again, and Dick blinked and looked over at Roy, who was, at least apparently, sober for once. He didn't know whether he wanted to push that bright red hair out of his face and kiss him until his lips went numb just to feel  _ something  _ other than the crippling emptiness building inside of him, or if he wanted to latch onto his side and never let go.

"What's wrong?" Roy pressed and took Dick's hands in his, and Dick laced their fingers together and squeezed Roy's hands tightly, glad for the reassurance that Roy was there, and Roy wasn't going anywhere  _ until he eventually fucks up and overdoses on God only knows what.  _ No, he didn't want to think about that right then. He needed to think about Jason, only about Jason.

"He's dead," Dick crumpled the paper and threw it into the trashcan by the kitchen counter. What was the point in keeping it so he could keep torturing himself again and again and again? No, it would have been better if he hadn't read it in the first place. It would have been better if Bruce had just manned up and told him about Jason in the first place... But Bruce hadn't told him Jason existed in the first place. Why did Dick expect Jason dying to be handled any differently? "Jason's dead."

"Shit," Roy breathed and pulled Dick to him, and Dick shut his eyes and tried to ignore the lingering scent of alcohol and vomit on the archer's shirt because he already had enough to worry about, and he didn't need Roy's issues resurfacing again. The absolute last thing he needed was another fight that no one would ever really win. "I'm so sorry, Dick," Roy said softly, and Dick shut his eyes tightly and tried to ignore the sinking, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach because he knew he needed to go see Bruce about this, and God, the last thing he wanted to do was go see Bruce about this.

"I need to go talk to B," Dick said, his voice shaking. The last time they had spoken had been weeks ago, Bruce commenting that he didn't like what Dick had done with himself, Dick telling Bruce to go fuck himself... "He should have told me. I shouldn't have had to find out from a damned newspaper, Roy." His voice broke, and Roy rubbed his back, and Dick melted into him, even though he could see Roy's ribs sticking out from his shirt, and could feel how bony his hands had gotten.

"Want me to go with you?" Roy asked, and Dick shook his head because, no, that was the absolute last thing he needed. Bruce could be awful at the best of times, and the last thing Dick needed was for Bruce to have yet another reason to hate Roy.  _ He promised to quit.  _ "You sure?" Roy pressed, and Dick nodded. He stayed in Roy's arms a moment longer before taking a shaky breath and stepping back.

"I'll be home soon." He kissed Roy's cheek before grabbing his keys and heading out.

He didn't remember most of the ride to the manor, though there wasn't much to look at between Bludhaven and Gotham to really be memorable. He'd bypassed a few muggings, maybe a carjacking, and every instinct in him was screaming to break them up, but he needed to stay focused on getting to the manor and giving Bruce a piece of his mind and keeping himself from talking himself out of it even though a voice in the back of his head told him this was a terrible, terrible mistake.

"Ah, Master Dick," Alfred smiled when Dick knocked on the door, and God Dick was grateful when the older man took his soaking wet jacket from him and offered him a towel for his hair. "It is good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Alfred," Dick replied and toweled off his hair at least enough to keep it from dripping all over the mahogany floor. Alfred would kill him if he ruined it. "Bruce here?"

"I believe so," Alfred nodded. "I shall go check and see." Dick nodded and watched as the kindly man left him in the middle of the foyer. He rocked back and forth on his feet, hoping to whatever god might have been out there that things would go at least somewhat smoothly. How could they, though? It wasn't like Bruce was hiding the Santa secret from him. A kid was dead. A kid that Dick knew and Bruce was supposed to be responsible for. And Dick had known nothing about it.

Bruce hesitated before saying “Dick” as he headed in from the living room. Years later and there was still that damned pause before Bruce could say his name, that same look of doubt that he managed to mask a fraction of a second too late. Would things ever be okay between them again? Sometimes Dick doubted it. "What brings you here?"

"You know what," Dick spat out, unable to keep the venom from his tone. Because just the sight of Bruce and the hesitation on his name and the look in his eyes that he hid too late and the knowledge that Jason was gone and Bruce hadn't even  _ called him _ .... "Were you ever going to tell me?" he questioned and watched as Bruce took a sharp breath and an instinctive step back.

"It's a complicated situation," Bruce answered carefully.

"So how true was the headline?" Dick crossed his arms.

“True enough,” Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and Dick took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Part of him had been hoping it was all just some sick, twisted joke. That Jason was going to shout something from the room next door, or step into the foyer and shoot Dick a death glare like he always used to.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Dick questioned.

“Tell you what?” Bruce asked, exasperation in his tone, and for a moment he looked so much older than he was, like he could actually have been Dick’s biological father.  _ Thank God he isn’t. _ “He went off to look for his biological mother on his own.” His biological mother? Didn’t she die before Jason became Robin? “Joker found him, beat him within an inch of his life, and blew him up. Kid was probably already dead before the explosion happened.”

Dick felt sick to his stomach. What would have happened if he would have actually given a fuck about Jason? If he hadn't openly hated him so much? Would he still be alive? Would he have even gone after his birth mom in the first place without telling him first? Was this his fault? Because it must have been his fault for Jason to think it was okay to make such a stupid decision....

“You should have told me.”

“You hated him.”

“I didn’t hate him,” Dick’s voice rose in pitch, and  _ God,  _ why did it always have to end in fighting when it came to Bruce? But what had he expected? He knew things were going to turn sour. How could they not? He just hadn’t expected things to go so far downhill so fast. “I hated that you didn’t tell me about him. And I hated that you gave him my name…”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time you changed a name, would it?” Bruce questioned.

Dick recoiled like he’d been slapped. 

How dare he? 

How  _ dare  _ he?

He saw Alfred from the corner of his eye, saw his lips moving, but the words weren’t registering, and he didn’t care. He grabbed his helmet and his keys, and he left without so much as a ‘goodbye.’

\----------------------------------

It was an accident. Honest to God, it was an accident. Dick had been cleaning his and Roy’s room at the Tower, the God-damned  _ Tower  _ of all places when the syringes had fallen out of their hiding place. And he picked them up and looked them over, and God, Roy could have at least been smart enough to use clean ones…  _ I promise. No more.  _ How many times had he told Dick that lie before?

Roy was going to be furious when he found out, and Dick didn’t care. He was going to get Roy clean if it killed him. Hell, maybe it would kill him. Because he was done. He was done with the lying and the drugs and God only knew what else Roy had lied to him about… What if he was… No, he didn’t want to think about that. Nothing else was going on.  _ I promise.  _ Bullshit. When had a promise ever meant anything to him? Bruce had promised to protect him and to love him no matter what. And where had that landed him?

It was 3 AM. Roy had just come back from patrol, or at least that was what he had told the others. But his pupils were so constricted they were barely there, and his hair was stringy, and his forehead was covered in sweat that Dick was pretty sure hadn’t come from fighting crime. He watched Roy retreat to their room, and sighed deeply when he heard the tell-tale rustling of drawers and turning over of their bedding.

“Looking for these?” Dick questioned, leaning against the doorway, syringes in his hand. He glanced between the needles and Roy, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “You lied to me.”

“Yeah, well it wouldn’t be the first time,” Roy snapped and kept searching, and Dick hoped to God he’d found everything Roy had hidden in their room.  _ He could have at least hid them somewhere else. _

“What if Lian found these?” Dick demanded. He didn’t even want to start to think about that. Lian could have been playing in their room and found them, and what if she got hurt? She could have gotten hurt, and it would have been Dick’s fault for not seeing the signs sooner….

“You told me you were quitting.”

“Yeah, and I also told you I loved you, but you and I both know you’re only good for one thing.” Dick glared and felt his blood boil. It was the drugs, he tried to tell himself. Sober Roy never would have said anything like that. “God, I liked you better when you were my girlfriend.”

“Get the fuck out.” Dick felt a rage in his veins he’d never felt before because Roy was supposed to be the supportive one. He was supposed to be sensitive. He was supposed to  _ care.  _ And he’d gone and thrown it all in Dick’s face, and he was  _ done.  _

“Dick, I…”

Dick threw the syringes to the ground with a force he didn’t know he was capable of. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” he growled. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

Roy stood there a long moment, staring at him. Dick shut his eyes and took a deep breath. And in that moment, Dick hated him. He hated him more than he ever thought he could hate someone. He was supposed to have been able to trust Roy. And Roy had lied and lied and lied to him. And then he had and say the worst possible thing, and Dick had never wanted to hit someone or something so much in his life.

He’d had enough.

He watched Roy open his eyes slowly, taking a deep, even breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice soft and genuine. 

But it wasn’t enough.

It wouldn’t undo the damage that had been done.

And Dick shook his head and crossed his arms and watched as Roy left.

_ Good riddance. _

Dick watched the door shut behind Roy and tried to ignore the tears streaming down his face. After everything, the cheating, the lying, the drugs… This was how things were going to end?

And he didn’t want to admit it, but he was terrified of being alone. He’d never been alone, at least not for years and years… What the hell was he supposed to do? What was Lian going to do?

And he could still feel his blood boiling in his veins.  _ Fuck Roy,  _ he thought and knocked a vase off the nightstand, watching it fall and hit the hardwood floor, shattering into thousands of tiny little pieces.  _ Fuck all of this.  _

“Come on, Lian,” Dick could hear Roy’s voice through the door. Great, so he hadn't even had the decency to just  _ go  _ like Dick had told him to. “Time to leave.”

“What about Dickie?” Lian asked, and Dick felt the tears come harder as a sob caught in his throat. He never meant for her to get hurt too.

“He’s staying here,” Roy sighed, and Dick shut his eyes tight when he heard the apartment door close behind them.

\--------------

It should have been an easy fight. How many times had they fought Deathstroke now? Dick had lost count somewhere after ten. They knew his moves. They knew his tactics. It should have been easy. 

But that had been back when he and Roy were still together, back when the team had some resemblance of teamwork. Back before everything had all gone to hell. Roy shot an arrow too close to Dick for his liking. Dick had ‘accidentally’ thrown a birdarang that nicked him in the arm.

Raven had yelled at them to get over it and work together.

And really, shouldn’t they have been able to do that? How long had they been working together? And it had been weeks since the breakup, and Dick kept telling himself that it was fine. That he was fine. And Roy had allegedly gotten clean again, and everything should have been peachy keen.

So why the hell were they getting their asses handed to them?

“Can you watch where you’re shooting?” Dick shot a glare at Roy, who had damn near gotten Dick in the shoulder with that latest arrow he’d loosed. Was he high on the job too?

“Maybe you should watch where you’re flipping,” Roy countered. Dick didn’t need to see the glare from under Roy’s glasses to know that it was there.

“How cute,” Slade taunted, and Dick had to fight to keep from losing control. “A lover’s quarrel.”

Dick’s eyes flashed, the wound from the breakup still fresh. He pulled his escrima sticks and leaped over to Slade, not caring that it wasn’t part of the strategy to hit him. He just needed to hit  _ something.  _ Anything.

He heard Raven shout before he felt it, something sharp and biting, and  _ fuck. _

He was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything other than glance down, blood already starting to stain his suit. “A pity I have to cut things short,” Dick watched as Slade slid his bloodied sword back into its sheath. “But I have better ways to spend my time than fighting a bunch of brats.”

He wasn’t sure who caught him.

He wasn’t sure he cared.

God, he just wanted to sleep. No. Couldn’t sleep. Sleep meant not waking up. 

“Shit,” he glanced at Roy fading in and out of focus, knelt next to him. “Shit, stay with us, ‘Wing.”

Dick nodded and tried to clutch at the wound, but Raven wouldn’t let him, and didn’t she know it hurt and he needed it to stop hurting? God, he just wanted it to stop. 

He wanted everything to stop. 

———————-

He came to with a groggy head and a mouth that felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He glanced around, glaring when he saw a familiar redhead seated at his side. He tried to speak, to tell him to fuck off, but the words wouldn’t come. “We thought you were a goner there for awhile,” Roy sighed, and Dick breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Roy was sober for once. 

"How are you feeling?" Roy asked, and Dick shot him a death glare. What part of 'I never want to see you again,' had he not understood? But, then again, when had Roy ever been good at doing the things he was told to do?

"Like I must be in hell if you're here." Dick glared, and couldn't bring himself to feel bad when Roy flinched away. He sat up too quickly and winced when he tore at the wound on his stomach. He glanced down to see it heavily gauzed and bandaged. How badly had Slade gotten him? He didn't want to think about it.

Maybe things would have been better if he'd had the decency to die from it.

No, he couldn't think like that. Roy's problems, Bruce's problems.... He didn't cause them... Did he? No, of course he didn't. Alfred told him that enough times. And Alfred had never lied to him before.

Weeks after the breakup, and Dick still hated Roy's guts.

"I deserved that," Roy sighed and ran a hand through his long red hair, and Dick just nodded and crossed his arms, crying out when he agitated the injury further. "I'm really, really sorry," he added, and Dick just nodded. "What I said was... I get it if you hate me for the rest of your life."

"So why the fuck are you here?" Dick demanded, and it hurt knowing Roy was the only one there. Bruce had to have known. And he hadn't even bothered to show up to say hello, to see how he was doing. But what did he expect? Their last meeting hadn't exactly gone according to plan.

"Was worried," Roy answered.

"Bullshit."

"I was," Roy insisted and pulled a knee to his chest. It had to have been uncomfortable in that God-awful chair he was sitting in. Good. Bastard deserved it. "Raven left about an hour ago. Told her to go get some sleep."

"Are you expecting me to thank you or something?" Dick deadpanned. Because if that was the case, he had another thing coming. He'd run out of nice words for Roy Harper a long time ago. No matter how much they'd been through together, no matter how many ups they'd had alongside the downs... It wasn't worth it. He wasn't going to let his heart be vulnerable to him ever again.

Look where it had gotten him last time.

"I should go," Roy sighed and stood.

"Yeah, you should," Dick responded and didn't even bother to look as he left.

\----------------------

On a scale from one to ten of the worst possible things that could happen, being benched due to injury definitely fell somewhere after a five. It hurt to move anything, and he was stuck in bed questioning every life decision that he’d ever made that had led him to that point in time. 

At least last time he’d been benched he’d had someone to talk to. Even if that person was Roy. Even if he hoped to God he never had to see or deal with Roy for the rest of his life. God, why did they have to be on the same God-damn team? What dumbass had made that decision?

He tried to get out of bed and hissed when he agitated his still-healing stomach wound. He had to hand it to Slade. The bastard knew where to get him. “Careful,” Kori said and gently pushed him back down. When the hell had Kori stopped by? Wasn’t she supposed to be at the tower training the new teens? “You will hurt yourself further if you are not careful.”

“‘M fine,” Dick muttered, the words sounding like the bullshit they were even to his own ears. He ignored the death glare Kori shot him and reluctantly lay back down. He wasn’t fine. He was the furthest fucking thing from fine. He was stuck in bed, left alone with his own, usually terrible, thoughts, and he couldn’t even go out on missions or patrols to keep his mind safe from itself. Because even weeks after Roy had said the awful thing, Dick still wanted nothing more than for something horrifically awful to happen to the archer. And he wasn’t normally one to wish anyone ill.

“You are not.” Kori crossed her arms, and Dick had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. She was just trying to help, he reminded himself. There was no sense in going off on her when she was just trying to do a good thing. “Roy has been asking about you.”

“I don’t give a shit what Roy’s been doing,” Dick said, and tried to ignore the guilt he felt when Kori flinched slightly. It was a dick move to snap at her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

“He is worried about you.”

“I don’t care.”

“We are all worried about you,” Kori sighed and sat next to him, and Dick made a face when she pushed his hair out of his eyes. 

“I’m fine,” Dick assured. And he hated that he cared that Roy was worried. He hated that it made his stomach do stupid little flips and made his heart rate faster because he was supposed to hate Roy. He was supposed to hate Roy for the rest of his God-damned existence.

So why didn’t he?

\---------------------

It had been months since the breakup with Roy, and Dick still felt like shit. He and Bruce were back on good terms, and he wasn't sure how long it would last this time. Because it always ended, no matter how hard he tried. He'd sell his soul to make Bruce proud of him, happy for him, and Bruce took that and threw it away time after God-damned time.

They'd faced challenges, solved the unsolvable again and again. But nothing could have prepared them for the latest challenge.

Red Hood knew their moves, knew how they operated. "Look at that." Dick paused the video and pointed at the screen. "He cut the line before it went taut. You have to be trained to do that." He knew those moves. Bruce had taught them to him way back when. But he'd be lucky if Bruce listened to him. He rarely did.

There was something hauntingly familiar about the newest adversary, the way he'd taken Dick in a fight like it was easy, like it was something he'd done before.

Red Hood almost reminded him of Jason, in a way.

No.

He didn't want to think about Jason.

Years after his death, and it still hurt whenever he heard a kid laugh or make a snarky remark. Years later, and it hurt to see the kids in Crime Alley that the world had thrown away.

At least they were the lucky ones.

They never got scooped up by Bruce fucking Wayne.

Maybe they stood a chance after all.

Bruce said something, but Dick was too enthralled in the video to care.

And that voice.

God that voice.

It sounded just like Jason. Moved like Jason. Spoke like Jason... Did someone think that was some sick, twisted joke?

"I'll take care of it," Bruce said, and Dick nodded because it was easier than trying to argue. Why bother messing up the tentative peace they'd formed? It wasn't worth it.

He thanked Alfred when the man brought him a pair of crutches and hobbled his way over to the elevator. There would be plenty of time to solve the mystery. At least he hoped so. The madman certainly seemed hellbent on ruining Batman's life. Hell, maybe even Nightwing's too.

He'd made enough enemies in his life that the idea wasn't entirely impossible.

He wished it were Jason.

Then, at least, he could apologize.

\------------

It shouldn't have been possible.

Bruce had been the one to tell him. Jason was alive. Jason had caused an explosion that almost killed himself and the Joker. Jason was  _ alive _ . But how? Ra's al Ghul. Lazarus Pit... God, Dick could only begin to imagine the horrors Jason would have gone through with that.

Jason had disappeared.

Jason had disappeared, and Dick was bound and determined to find him and knock some sense into him.

He needed to think like Jason, and he needed to do it fast before he went off and did something else stupid. He would lie low for a bit. Go somewhere familiar…

And so Dick found himself on the Crime Alley streets, trying to ignore the pungent smells, trying not to see the too-skinny kids, the druggies passed out in the streets… Up. Jason would go up. Better vantage point. Safer.

He glanced around. Abandoned building. Multiple stories.

Bingo.

He made his way up, no sense in showing up as Nightwing. That would just piss Jason off even more than he no doubt already was. He needed to be cool, calm, collected. Losing his temper wouldn’t do either of them any good. 

He knocked on the door and rocked back and forth on his feet. It was a stupid move, he berated himself. Why would someone answer the door to an apartment that was supposed to be abandoned? Still, he could let himself hope…

He was more than a bit surprised when someone actually answered the door.

He hadn't seen that face in years, not since it was young and, well, not quite innocent, but innocent enough. Now Jason's lines were hardened, his face aged beyond what it should have been. Solid black hair had a new white streak running through his bangs. Dick didn't know if he wanted to hug him or if he wanted to cry.

"What the hell do you want?" Jason questioned, but his tone wasn't harsh. No, it was resigned in a way that made him sound so, so much older than he was.

"Can we talk?" Dick asked, and for a moment, he thought Jason would say no. Hell, he expected Jason to say no. But Jason had stepped to the side with a curt nod, and Dick had stepped in.

For all its... charm, Jason had done well decorating the space with books and blankets. It was almost homey, in a twisted sort of way. "What the hell do you want?" Jason repeated as he shut the door behind them. "You better not be telling me to 'come home' or some bullshit like that."

"I wasn't going to," Dick promised. He of all people knew how absolutely awful Bruce could be. He wouldn't wish the Bat's wrath on anyone. And the Bat would certainly have things to say about Jason going and wreaking havoc on a city for weeks, hell, for months.

"So why are you here, then?" Jason sighed and all but collapsed into the chair beside Dick. Dick tried not to flinch when he saw Jason's shirt ride up, revealing some heavy bandaging underneath. At least he was taking care of himself? "You hate me."

"I don't hate you," Dick corrected, and God, it felt good for those words to finally come out. “I hate that you replaced me.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Jason crossed his arms.

“I know.”

“So why take it out on me?”

“I don’t know,” Dick ran a hand through his hair. Because Jason had been an easy target? Because it was easier to be mad at Jason than it was to be mad and stay mad at Bruce? 

“Yeah, well maybe you should figure it out,” Jason shut his eyes and took a shaky breath, and for once, Dick had no idea what to say.

“Just… I was shitty, okay?” Dick asked after a long, tense silence. “I was really shitty to you, and I want to make that up. If you need anything let me know, okay?”

He watched Jason's eyes shift from confusion to understanding, watched as the younger man contemplated it for a brutally long moment. "You won't tell B?"

"I won't tell B."

"Okay then," Jason said, albeit hesitantly. "Okay."

\---------------------

“So what happened with you and Roy anyway?” Jason kicked his feet up onto his barely stable coffee table and twisted the cap off some cheap beer. Dick shot him a glare. Dead or not, Jason was still only 18, but Jason shot him a glare to match, and Dick shut his mouth. Okay, so maybe being legally dead had its benefits after all.

“He said some shit,” Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair because the absolute last thing he wanted to do was relive that night, that  _ hell  _ of a night. “I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“I can’t imagine him being cruel on purpose,” Jason sat and took a swig from the bottle in his hand, and Dick gritted his teeth. Jason had only ever known a sober Roy, a sweet, caring Roy who gave a damn about anything and everything. He hadn't had to live through the ugly.

“You weren’t there,” Dick sighed and took a sip of his water. Even years later, the memory still rang fresh in his head, and the hurt resurfaced like it was new, like he was there all over again. Because Roy, the person who was supposed to love him and protect him, who had  _ promised  _ to do those things, had hurt him in the absolute worst way possible.

A silent moment hung between them, full of tension and things they wanted to say but weren’t brave enough to say. He shut his eyes tightly and took a slow, even breath before opening them again. Jason was still sat across from him, face contemplative.

“Hey,” the younger man began, voice cautious in a way that Dick hadn't heard it since the night Jason had come out to him so many years ago. “Can I ask you something?” Dick nodded and motioned for him to continue. God, it was almost exactly like being back on that rooftop. Things had been so damn complicated back then. “What happened with you and B?”

Dick took another shaky breath. Had Jason seriously never pieced it together?  _ How could he? He was dead and in the ground before he could even get his learner’s permit.  _ But was that really a conversation he wanted to have with Jason? Why bother coming out if Jason had only ever known him post-operation? 

Jason had trusted Dick with his secrets once.

Bros didn’t out bros. Or at least he hoped that was the case when it came to Jason.

“I came out and it didn’t go so well,” he answered carefully. Ha. Understatement of the year. He could still hear the words from their fight echoing in his head years after the fact. “He said some really shitty things, and… Yeah, well, you can fit the pieces together from there.”

“Sucks you had to go through that,” Jason finished his drink and leaned back in his seat. “And uh, I’m okay with it, you know? I was kind of an idiot and didn’t realize what you tried to tell me when I was a kid…”

“Jason,” Dick laughed and shook his head. “I know. It’s fine.”

He’d misjudged the kid all those years ago. Jason had grown into a caring, empathetic man. And Dick wouldn’t have traded him for the world.

\---------------------

Lian was dead.

Dick hadn't believed the news when he'd first heard it.

Raven had been the one to tell him. It explained Roy's absence for the past several days, not that Dick had been to unhappy about that... But now, knowing the circumstances, he just felt like a massive jerk.

He could see Roy all but collapsed against Ollie, looking worse than Dick had ever seen him in his life. Why wouldn’t he? The man had just lost his world. He watched as Roy shifted so his head was in his hands, and he pretended not to see the redhead’s shoulders heaving. 

Once, Dick had wished that every horrible thing that could possibly happen would happen to Roy.

He deserved a lot of it.

He didn’t deserve this.

Lian had been a sweet kid. Caring, considerate. Dick couldn’t help but smile every time he saw her. She deserved better than to die scared and alone. And Dick knew Roy was beating himself up over it, with thoughts that he should have been there, that he should have been able to do something…

Dick approached him cautiously. What could he say? What should he say? Bullshit ‘I’m sorry for your loss’s and ‘She’s in a better place’s? That wouldn’t bring her back. It wouldn’t make the hurt go away. ‘I’m sorry,’ was a bullshit phrase people used when they didn’t know what else to say. “Hey,” he greeted and watched as bloodshot eyes glanced up to greet him.

“Hey,” Roy shut his eyes tightly and moved so his face was buried in Ollie’s shoulder. God, he must have been in a horrific state to seek comfort from Ollie… Dick didn’t want to think about what was going through his ex’s mind.

“Thanks for coming,” Ollie said softly and rubbed Roy’s back, and Dick nodded and sat across from the person that had once meant the world to him. 

He frowned when a familiar face appeared behind Roy, hesitating a moment before sitting down beside him. What the hell was Jason doing at Lian’s funeral? He’d been dead most of the time she’d been alive. “Hey,” Jason greeted Dick, his voice soft, even, before turning back to face Roy. “Brought you some water.” Dick watched as Roy hesitantly pulled himself away from Ollie and took the cup of water from Jason’s hand. 

And Dick pretended it didn’t hurt when Jason wrapped an arm around Roy’s shoulders. It was too easy, too familiar. 

When the hell had that happened?

Why the hell did Jason think that it was okay?

Hadn't they talked about that just a few weeks earlier?

He watched the pair share a glance, one only a couple could have understood. How could Jason do that? Sure, Dick hadn't gone into the specifics of the breakup… But didn’t that violate bro-code or  _ something _ ? “Thanks for coming,” Roy cleared his throat and looked Dick dead in the eye, and Dick wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug him and never let go or wrap his hands around his pretty little neck and squeeze. “It means a lot.”

“I’m not here for you,” Dick growled out before he could realize what he had said. He was on his feet before he knew what they were doing, and he watched as Jason carefully rose to his feet as well. Jason may have been younger, but he had a head on Dick, not to mention a more massive build. Dick wasn’t sure he could take him in a fight. Not that he’d start a fight. It wasn’t the time or the place. He could deal with his anger toward them later down the road. “I’m here for her.”

“Dick, I think maybe you should go,” Ollie spoke as he squeezed Roy’s shoulder, and Dick just nodded and turned on his heel and left without looking back.

A life without Roy Harper was better for them all in the long-run after all.

Wasn’t it?


End file.
